


Hidden Talents

by Not_You



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Mutant, Mutant Hate, Mutant Rights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-05-20
Packaged: 2017-12-12 11:28:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/811077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_You/pseuds/Not_You
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a lost kinkmeme prompt for Clint being a closeted mutant.  Short, not very shippy, and doesn't really resolve anything.  Yay! :D</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hidden Talents

The first time it happens is at night, and everybody in the whole damn dorm starts hollering. Clint has been having a nightmare, something about storms and screaming brakes, and every single thing that isn't nailed down is whirling through the air. The beds are too heavy for whatever part of him is doing this, but everything else is fair game. It all drops when he comes fully awake, but after that it's always there. Doors rattle when he's angry and the bed hovers when he jacks off. There's no space in the orphanage, no room to really learn how to use it, just to learn to box it up and cram it deep down inside wherever it goes.

He's about sixteen when he realizes that he's one of _them_ , that he's a goddamn mutie. It's not so much that he hates them himself, but the way Barney talks about them, well... Clint keeps it to himself. There's a little more time now, though, and he does learn a few tricks. He moves small objects with purpose if not with much precision. Mostly he works on his archery, because he's good at it and when he's tired out from shooting for hours, his power doesn't act up.

Years away from that kid, with all the hard knocks and betrayals and adventures, he's honestly almost forgotten about it. He doesn't really think of himself as involved when mutant news comes up. Just keeps his head down and all the Carrie business to himself. It's not even hard anymore, and he's glad of that. He's certainly not _normal_ , but he is human. And the Avengers are human. He's seen how people treat the X-men, and he doesn't want that for his team. Not for poor old displaced Cap and insecure Stark and Nat with all the red in her ledger. And Phil too, having to handle them on top of the stress of being a decent man in his line of work.

So it really shouldn't matter. Clint never uses it, he might as well not have it. He's completely human and just one hell of a shot. And that's what he keeps telling himself until Coulson is in the path of a massive, falling pillar. Everything has gone wrong and really, as soon as ancient temples were mentioned Clint had said this was an Avengers job and not a SHIELD one but no one ever fucking listens to him. One hand is keeping pressure on a wound on the other arm and he's out of arrows anyway and Phil is about to die. Again. It'll be his fault this time too, and Clint screams, buried power reaching up and out and snatching at the pillar. He has never tried to move anything a fraction of the weight before and it's far too much for his anemic mental grip. 

He can feel it slipping and tumbling and scrambles with all his might to catch it and hold it. It feels like there's an axe buried in his head but he won't let go. It's like when he was a dumb little kid trying to keep hold of a cinderblock, and sure enough it drops and jerks and his skull feels like it's on fire. And then there's a horrible crash, and Phil screams.

Clint has no idea what time it is when he wakes up, and for a second doesn't remember, wondering why his heart feels like a lead weight. Someone has taken off his shirt and shoes and pulled the covers over him, signs of care that don't fit with his crushing guilt. And then it comes back to him and he's not going to cry, he's not going to fucking cry. He's going to get up. It takes a minute, but he forces himself to his feet. Someone has dragged him back to the Tower, and he's profoundly grateful to be in his own bed and not a SHIELD medical center. There are voices outside, and he freezes for a moment before creeping to the door to listen.

"I still can't believe it." It's Cap's voice, and least he doesn't sound angry.

"I can. I've had my suspicions." And of course Nat has, she's always two steps ahead.

"It is strange that he has not shared this talent."

"I'll say." And it's Phil's voice, and it doesn't matter what a bad idea this is, he has to see him. The whole team is outside, Phil ensconced in an armchair with a casted foot propped up.

"Barton!" He beams, and Clint tries not to choke on the lump in his throat, staggering over and kneeling by his chair.

"Holy shit," he gasps, resting his head on Phil's knee in a way that will absolutely mortify him later, "I thought you were dead."

"I've got a bad habit of doing that." He rests a hand on Clint's head. "I'm sorry."

He can hear the others moving, and tenses up, feeling miserable and exposed. He risks a glance, and sees them filtering out, leaving him alone with Phil, who just pets him, steady and soothing. "It's all right, Clint. I'm here."

He does his best not to sob. "Phil..."

"You saved my life, you know."

"…I did?"

"Yeah. It would've fallen on my head if you hadn't bought me enough time to get out from under."


End file.
